CHAPTER 164: CHAPTER 162 — THE DAYS WE CHERISH

Morning mist rolled gently over the fields as birds sang their quiet songs. Aoi stirred first, pulling the curtains open to greet the soft light of a new day. In their bedroom—lined with photo frames and little souvenirs of the decades—they lived slowly now, but with purpose.

She turned toward the bed where Ren was still asleep, his breathing deep and calm. His once-black hair had long since turned silver, but he remained the same boy she’d fallen for so many years ago.

Downstairs, the grandchildren were already playing in the garden. Hina’s son was launching a small model drone, and Hikari’s younger child was trying to chase it. The grown-ups—Hikari, Hina, their spouses—were in the kitchen, laughing over breakfast preparations.

Ren joined them soon, supported slightly by his cane, which Hikari had built with biometric support systems. He smiled at the familiar chaos, the warm smell of rice and miso and toast mingling in the air. "This feels just like when you two were small," he murmured, ruffling Hina’s hair as she passed him a cup of tea.

Later in the afternoon, the family gathered outside beneath the old sakura tree. It wasn’t spring, but the tree still stood tall—a symbol of endurance and memory.

Ren sat with a small journal in his lap. "I’ve started writing again," he said, as the children circled around. "Not code. Just... memories."

Ami leaned closer. "Can I read them someday, Grandpa?"

"You will," he nodded. "Someday, when I’m not around to tell them myself."

There was a long pause. No one wanted to think about that. But Ren’s smile was reassuring, not sad.

That night, after the house had quieted and the stars painted the sky, Ren and Aoi lay side by side again.

"Do you think we’ll be remembered?" Aoi whispered.

Ren looked toward the ceiling, where a faint shimmer from Lucia hovered quietly in the corner. "By our children. By their children. And maybe... even by the world."

She reached for his hand.

"Then that’s enough."